


A World Without Angels

by VeetVoojagig



Series: After Life [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Destructive Behavior, M/M, More angst, Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeetVoojagig/pseuds/VeetVoojagig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Omega thinks Archangel was destroyed. Everyone is happy that the madness has stopped--except Jimmy Vega.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A World Without Angels

The words washed over Jimmy as he walked through the station. He tried not to hear. It was all anyone wanted to talk about.

He should have gone home. His empty room was… too empty. It had been empty since…

Bar. Not Afterlife, it was too noisy. He wanted alcohol and peace. Fuck, he wanted peace. He found a little shithole—most bars on Omega were shitholes—and got a bottle of tequila and a table. 

Too close to the vidscreen. He could hear every word. He was halfway through the bottle when the report changed to the one he’d been avoiding.

_”The vigilante Archangel is reported dead after a standoff last week. Blue Suns, Eclipse, and Blood Pack all are rumored to have suffered heavy losses in the attack—”_

There was a crash, sparks, and silence. The vidscreen lay in ruins in the middle of the room. The patrons of the bar stared at Jimmy, who stood by the wall, chest heaving. He turned and stalked out without a word.

 _Dead._ The word echoed hollowly in his ears. Why? How could this happen? How could he be _gone?_

And why did he have to care so much?

He scowled as he threw open the door to his room and stalked in, dropping himself onto the worn bed. He stared up at the ceiling. It had been one night. One spectacular night, admittedly, but the asshole hadn’t even told him his name. 

Jimmy hadn’t asked his name. 

It wasn’t like they were dating. It wasn’t anything. 

It wasn’t like he was in love. 

He grabbed his datapad, holding it close to his chest. He didn’t key up the message. He knew exactly what it said. He shouldn’t have kept it. It would be dangerous if anyone found it. Would have been dangerous. Now…

“Fuck,” he whispered. His eyes squeezed tightly shut. He wasn’t going to cry. Fuck that. He was _not_ going to cry over a fucking one night stand.

Just because that one night, he’d been treated better than he ever had before…

He reached over and shut off the light, laying in the dark with only his half-empty bottle of tequila for company. 

 

His performance the next night was lackluster at best, and afterwards he tried to slip out unnoticed, but Steve was there for the first time since the news had come out. He hesitated by the back door for a moment, then sighed and wandered back into the club, making his way to the older man’s side. “Hey, Esteban,” he said softly, leaning against the bar. “Boyfriend left you again?” 

Steve gave him a level look. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. What makes you think…” 

“That was the most boring taunt you’ve ever done, and you look miserable. What can I do?” Steve’s hand rested on his shoulder, rubbing gently. 

Jimmy sighed softly. “It’s nothin’, Esteban. There’s nothing you can do.” He turned, putting his elbows on the bar. “Unless you want to buy me a drink. Everything from last night’s worn off.” 

Steve looked worried. “Jimmy…” 

“Don’t,” he murmured tiredly. He rubbed his forehead, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about it, and there’s nothing that can fix it. Ever. So just give me _cerveza_ and time, okay? Then maybe I’ll learn to forget it.” 

Steve was obviously not satisfied with that answer, but he didn’t push it, for which Jimmy was grateful. The older man summoned the bartender and ordered beers for the two of them, forking up the credits without complaint. He slid one of the beers over to Jimmy. “Drink up,” he said. “I can’t stand you looking so miserable.” 

After shooting him a disgruntled look, Jimmy raised his bottle to his lips and drank deeply. He closed his eyes. That was good. That was what he needed. Well, that and another ten just like it. 

There was a warm hand on his back, rubbing gently. That was nice. It was shaped all wrong, but nice. It was weird that he could remember the feel of those rough, three-fingered turian hands after just one night. Somehow he’d been burned into his memory. He finished his beer and signaled for another one, sighing as he glanced up at the man beside him. 

His voice was soft when he spoke. “If Robert was… gone… what would you do?” he asked.

Steve blinked. “Wow. Okay. Morbid.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Seriously. I don’t know what to do.”

There was a moment of silence. “I suppose I’d get blind drunk,” he said slowly. “Are you seriously telling me that you, Jimmy Vega, king of the one night stand, are having love troubles?”

His fingers tightened on the bottle. “I didn’t mean to,” he muttered bitterly. “It was just supposed to be fun. How could I know that any of this would happen?”

Steve’s arm circled his shoulders, squeezing him supportively. “I’ll get you another drink,” he said sympathetically. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Not really,” Jimmy sighed. He glanced down the bar. “Definitely not here,” he added under his breath. He bet all these people were gloating. They looked like merc sympathizers. Hell, half of them were probably mercs. They liked to hang out here. He took a sip of his fresh beer and scowled. 

Did one of them make the killing shot? Did they come here afterwards to drink and brag about how well they did?

Jimmy pushed away from the bar, knocking his stool over in the process. “I’m done here,” he said to Steve, not looking back as he stalked away from his friend and the barely-touched drink. He heard the man calling after him, and he ignored it. 

Before he reached the door, Steve’s hand caught his arm and tugged him to a stop. “You’re not going anywhere by yourself in this state,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. Jimmy shrugged. “I’m taking you home,” Steve added.

“Finally,” Jimmy said. “Been waiting for this for years.” The joke fell flat, bitterness still tinting his voice. 

“Shut up, brat.” Steve guided him through the station towards his neighborhood. He’d talked to the man about his home, even if he’d never taken him there. His steps only slowed when they reached the hall his room was on. “Which one?” he asked. 

Jimmy pointed it out, then punched in the lock code when they reached the door. Steve pushed him inside and followed. His lips tightened when he saw the empty bottles littering the floor by the bed. “Jimmy…” 

“Don’t,” he said, dropping to sit on the edge of the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands. 

There was weight on the bed beside him, and then Steve’s arm around his shoulders. He couldn’t take it. His body started shaking as tears began to fall. 

“Oh, Jimmy…” The arm tightened around him, pulling him against the other man’s comforting warmth. Jimmy swiped a hand across his eyes. He hadn’t cried since his mother died. He hated it, but he couldn’t stop. He leaned against Steve helplessly, sobbing brokenly. 

The other man just held him, not saying anything until Jimmy pulled away. “Are you…”

“They killed him,” he interrupted angrily, not even listening now. “Just gunned him down. Took him away from me, and then sit around _bragging._ ” He drew in a sharp breath. “I’ll never know if he even thought of me again. It’s crazy, but I miss him so fucking much.” 

Steve blinked. “Wait, Jimmy… How do you know that? Who told you…”

“It’s on the fucking news, Esteban! Everyone’s talking about it. No one will fucking shut up about it. I can’t get away from it.” 

The older man’s hand rested lightly on his arm. “Jimmy, what are you talking about?”  
He shook his hand off, staring at the wall. “You must of heard.” He dropped his head, closing his eyes. “Archangel,” he said finally. The word felt wrong in his mouth. It wasn’t how he thought of his lover. But it was who he was. 

There was silence for a long moment. Jimmy didn’t look to see what Steve was doing, what his expression was. He just sat there, letting the emptiness surround him. But then Steve spoke. “You’re shitting me.”

That surprised a harsh laugh out of the younger man, and he glanced over at him. He’d never heard Steve say that. It was Jimmy’s phrase. “Nah,” he said softly. He shrugged one shoulder.

“You’re in love with _Archangel?_ The psycho vigilante that was killing all those mercs?”

Jimmy scowled. “He’s not a psycho. Wasn’t. Who the fuck cares, he’s dead now.” He grabbed a bottle from the table by the bed, amazingly still about a third full. He must have passed out early last night. He took a deep drink, not paying attention to what it tasted like, and fell back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling. 

“Jimmy…” Steve twisted so that he could see the young man, reaching down to rub his arm. “I’m sorry. I’m sure… Right, I don’t know what to say. I wish there was something I could do for you. I’m so sorry.” 

He closed his eyes. “I miss him,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “It’s stupid. I barely knew him. I only met him once. But… I wish he’d come back. And he’s never coming back.” 

Steve didn’t answer, but Jimmy didn’t expect him to. Hell, he didn’t know why he was still here. They weren’t that close. He was Steve’s refuge from loneliness when his husband was away, and that was it. But… it was nice not to be alone. He reached out, and the other man’s hand found his, squeezing supportively. 

He wasn’t alone. It was all he could hope for. Hell, it was better than he’d had in a long time, to be honest. 

He looked up at Steve and gave a weak smile. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Don’t mention it,” the man answered softly. 

He stayed until Jimmy started falling asleep. He barely noticed when the other man released his hand and climbed off the bed. The click of his door was the last thing he heard before he slipped into a deep slumber.


End file.
